Just Acquaintances
by OyNebach42
Summary: No Slash. On CGL, you hardly ever see Zigzag without Squid, or Squid without Zigzag. They're like peanut butter and jelly, or cookies and milk. But they couldn't have always been best buds. This is a look into Zigzag and Squid's pasts. Back when Squid thought Zigzag was a psychopathic nut job, and Zigzag thought Squid was a spy. Back when they didn't get along. Chapter five's up!
1. Chapter One: The Fire

Dear readers: it has been a long, long time since I've written much of anything, but even longer since I wrote something to do with Holes. I missed writing. I used to just be able to sit down at the end of every day and write. It was a lot of fun. I can't seem to be able to do that anymore. I'm not sure what changed really, but something did. Anyway, I'm trying to get back into a writing mindset, and I thought I good way to do that would be with a Holes story.

This is a story I've had in mind for a long, long time. It's basically the story of Zigzag and Squid's pasts. How they met, what happened when they first got sent to Camp Green Lake and so on. Anyway here it is:

Chapter One: The Fire

Ricky struck a match and let it fall onto the pile of magazines. The flame dimmed for a moment before it reached the lighter fluid, then the pile went up. The heat was staggering. Ricky took an involuntary step back as his eyes squinted against the glare. The fire settled back on the papers curling and charring them.

The boy walked around it, watching from every angle as the magazines were destroyed, making sure none escaped. He knew they couldn't be trusted. There were too many eyes in them. Too many eyes that stared at him constantly. Spying. Well, they wouldn't be doing that anymore. A smirk stretched Ricky's face.

"Rick?" A voice called from the school's entrance. "Ricky, where are you?"

That was Sophie Greet, the cute girl from his English class.

"I'm here."

He could hear the tap-tap of her shoes as she approached. "There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you! I thought we were going to ditch gym together and-" She stopped, "Oh my gosh" Her voice was panicky now, all coming out in a rush, "oh my gosh Ricky, that's a fire!"

"Yeah,"

He still refused to turn, knowing that if he did some of the magazines would manage to escape.

"We gotta put it out!" Sophie shrieked, "Ricky, you'll burn down the school!"

The fire was small. It was on the dirt path between the main school building and one of the portable trailers that the brainiacs learned in. Ricky had even made sure to clear away grass around it. The only thing that would burn was the magazines.

"No, it's ok, Sophie. It's just some magazines. I had to burn them, because if you just cut them up the eyes can still see."

He heard her gasp over the crackling of the fire.

"It took me by surprise too, the first time I figured it out. But the more you keep thinking about it the more it makes since. Eyes can always see. Even in photographs, even in pictures, cartoons, on the T.V. The only way to get them to stop is if you burn them." He chanced a look at Sophie from the corner of his own eye. Her face was tight and her eyes seemed to be popping out like she'd just swallowed a gum ball whole. People always looked that way the first time. Realizing that they'd looked over so much had that effect on people. "It's all going to be o.k. though now," Ricky soothed, "I'm taking care of them."

Sophie took a step back, "You're crazy!" she exclaimed with a weird grin on her face.

Shaking his head, Ricky disagreed, and putting on his shirk-voice told her,"No, Sophie, I'm the only sane one left in the world."

She was already gone, running into the building. Ricky looked back at the magazines. The wind was picking up, like it usually did in the evenings. Sparks and smoke were scattered by the gales. Ricky watched one spark land on the grass by the nearest portable.

It was drought season, and the crackly grasses went up in seconds. That was interesting.

Someone had pulled the fire alarm in the school. It was ringing.

Ricky watched the flames race to the trailers and start up the walls. That was really cool, like special effects from a movie. Then the doors shot open and the brainiacs ran out coughing and shouting. They all stared at Ricky. He gave them a quick glance before turning to the magazine pile, all that remained were ashes.

A teacher ran up with a fire extinguisher and began dousing the flames. A fire trucks siren's joined in with the school's alarm.

"What the heck was that?" A brainiac screamed right up in his ear. "What were you trying to do? Burn us to death?"

Ricky snorted. "No, if I would have wanted to burn you to death, I would have sat the fire much closer to the trailers, but before that I probably would have drug one of the school's dumpsters in between them so you couldn't get the doors open… I would have sat that on fire too."

The kid looked like he was about to wet his pants.

The firemen came and put out what was left of the fire. A cop car had come with them, and the cops stayed to talk to the principle. Then they talked to Sophie Greet, the brainac kid and his teacher. Then they talked to Ricky.

They weren't happy.


	2. Chapter Two: Crap

Dear readers: I would like to start out by thinking .Chick for her kind review. Thanks! I really appreciate hearing from my readers. It gives me that push to keep writing. (Lol, that sentence made me think of Tom from Even Stevens when he's talking about O.J. with pulp.)

Anyway, here is chapter two, where Squid comes in to the story.

Chapter Two: Crap

Alan sprawled out on the couch in front of the TV. It was only eleven thirty so no good cartoons were on yet. He was stuck watching Oprah. G-d, what a joke that was, people sobbing and telling their life secrets on TV, it made him chuckle. With his eyes still glued to the set, Alan picked up a bag of chips and opened it. He shoved a handful into his mouth and chewed contentedly. Then he popped open a can of soda and gulped it down. A slight pressure in his chest made him sit up so that he could get up a burp. Ah, life was good.

Alan opened up a box of doughnut holes and crammed three into his mouth. The commercials came on then. One of them was for coke it had a popular song on it. Alan swallowed so that he could sing along.

"Mommy?"

Oh crap. Alan chanced a look into the hallway. A little kid stood there in her pajamas holding a blanket in one hand and a teddy bear in the other. Her nose was tomato red, and runny.

"You're not my mommy,"

Alan snorted, "No kidding."

"Where's my mommy?" The girl asked, "Are you a robber?" She raised the stuffed animal like a shield.

Think fast, think fast! "Uh, your mom had to run out to the store, I'm your babysitter."

The girl didn't look convinced. "I never had a boy babysitter before. Are you sure you're not a robber?"

"Pretty sure, wanna doughnut hole?" Alan held out the box to her.

"Not allowed to have sweets before lunchtime."

"Really?" Alan stuffed all the remaining ones into his mouth.

The girl stared at him and tilted her head, "Sure! Didn't your mommy ever tell you that?"

"Nope. Did your mommy ever give you a spanking?"

There was a nod.

"I thought so. She told me all about it. She said that if you weren't in your room when she got back, she'd give you the biggest spanking you ever had!"

The girl's eyes got huge. "That's not true!"

Alan smirked. "It may not be, but do you really want to chance it?"

After a moment the girl ran back down the hall. Alan heard a door close and smirked.

O.K. it was time to bail his place! Alan leapt to his feet and dashed to the kitchen, where he started through the window. Half way out, he remembered something and tipped over the sugar bowl on the counter top. Sugar grains cascaded across the countertop along with a tight wad of bills. Alan grabbed it and shoved it into his pocket. He was nearly gone when he heard the sirens. Double crap! He slid through the window and into the prickly bushes beneath. His arms got sliced up, but he bit his cheek to keep quiet and watched.

The cop car had stopped in front of the house, and the neighbor came running out to them in a pink robe and slippers. Even from where he hid, Alan could see her huge nose topped with the wart she tried to pass off as a beauty mark. "It's that Shepard boy!" The woman exclaimed, "I think he's inside the house!"

This was bad. Ugh, why'd he have to pick this road with nosy Miss Pickle Face? She was a member of the neighborhood watch and had been on the lookout for Alan for quite some time. And now she'd finally got him.

The cops were starting to circle the house.

Alan weighed his options, there weren't many. He could stay where he was and get caught, or he could try running, get caught in the open and possibly beat into submission. Either way was pretty bad. Crap.

One of the cops was coming around to use the back door. It was now or never. Alan made a break for the neighbor's house. He didn't get far. "Freeze!" Alan heard the gun cock, and did as he was told.

"Gonna make it easy on yourself, son? Good move." There was a slight jingle as the officer unhooked a pair of handcuffs from his belt. "Put your hands behind your back and assume the position." Alan felt the metal clamp around his wrists.

Crap.


	3. Chapter Three: First Impressions

Hey everybody, here's chapter three. Sorry there was more of a wait for this one. Once again I would like to start out by thanking Little Blonde Chick, and Sarishino for their reviews. Thanks guys! Here's chapter three.

Chapter Three: First Impressions

It was high noon and as hot as hades. Alan squinted against the sun as he stepped out of the courthouse. Sweat started soaking his shirt almost instantly. The stagnant air rasped in his throat as he breathed. Gosh. This was the hottest summer he could remember, but at least he'd be going somewhere with a lake. Camp Green Lake, they called it, so the whole place must revolve around the lake. It was probably run by touchy-feely shrinks who thought that putting kids in a better environment would instantly reform them. Well, they hadn't met Alan Shepard yet.

Alan's cop escort brought back to the current situation. "I've got better things to do than babysit juvies," The cop muttered, "I was about to go on patrol, so let's get this over with." He scowled darkly behind his sunglasses. Alan had decided to name the guy Grumpy. It just fit. He was on the shorter side with a brown handlebar mustache and an attitude problem, basically your standard dude who got into the police business because of a TV show, and now can't believe how sucky it actually is.

Grumpy practically shoved Allan across the parking lot to where an old school bus was waiting. "Ugh, where's the driver?" The cop moaned, "Yo, Joe, get your butt out here now!"

"Took you long enough to get here." An overweight man waddled out from behind the bus. A grey streaked pony tail stuck out the blue bandana he wore tied around his head, and a platinum beard clung to his chin like it was afraid it might fall off. He smiled mean spiritedly at the cop, "Well, well, if it isn't Guard Grayson again, I was hoping they'd send you." He gave Alan a long dirty look before taking a puff on the cigarette crammed between his fingers. "That other kid coming?"

"What, other kid?" The cop snapped.

Joe rolled his eyes. "I got word that I was to pick up two boys to go to Camp Green Lake. This is one of them-" It was hard to notice Joe's head jerk, but from the way the fat on his neck rippled, Alan guessed he was gesturing at him. "So where's the other?"

"Nobody told me about another kid." The cop half turned and yapped something into his walkie-talkie .

Alan sized up the bus while he waited. The whole thing was beige with dirt, even the widows were all fogged up. "Where'd you find that hunk of junk? King Tut's grave?"

"Watch it kid, you'd be smart not to get on my bad side. We're going to be seeing a lot of each other for the next four hours." Grinning evilly, Joe leaned forward and flipped the cigarette ash on Alan's shirt. "How would you like a Billy Ray marathon?"

The guy was probably bluffing, but Alan decided not to chance it.

"Hey, here's the other kid." Grumpy exclaimed, turning back around. He shoved Alan's shoulder towards the bus. "Now we can go."

Alan craned his neck to see around the cop. There was a whole parade coming out of the courthouse. Two armed policemen where in front, two steps behind then was the kid. And behind him there were two more guards.

Oh God! Alan felt his mouth fall open as he stared at the other kid. He had a straitjacket on! Alan had never seen one in real life. It looked a lot less scary when the Tasmanian devil was wearing it. That was not the only restraint either, there was a chain connecting the kid's legs. Leg cuffs! Crap, who was this dude?

As Alan watched, the kid stopped walking suddenly. He planted his legs as well as he could in leg cuffs and lowered his head like an angry bull getting ready to charge.

The cops waited for a few moments, before one of them in the rear nudged the kid with the butt of his gun. "Move along,"

"You'd like that wouldn't you?" The boy spoke in measured tones that carried across the grounds. "Get me onto your bus so that way you can lock me in it and try to burn me to death!"

"Why would we want to do that?" an officer asked, ignoring the frantic gestures of his friends.

The boy raised his head, "because you all think that I tried to burn those kids!"

"Nobody here thinks that," A more level headed cop soothed, "we're just trying to get you onto the bus so that you can go to Camp Green Lake. You told the judge you'd like it there, remember?"

The kid didn't respond.

"Come on boy, we don't have all day. Move it!" the first cop nudged him again.

Alan saw a ripple go through the kid's body. He growled deep in this throat like a bull dog.

The cop started to poke him again.

"Wouldn't do that if I were you." Grumpy called from across the parking lot.

"Keep out of this, Grayson." The other shot back as he drove the end of his gun into the boy's shoulder. "Move it!"

For one second nothing happened, and then the kid opened red, angry eyes and went ballistic.


	4. Chapter Four: On the Road

Dear readers: Sorry this chapter's late. I think we should make a Holes-wiki because I searched and searched on the net for Alan's last name and I couldn't find it anywhere! Thanks seddie-sparrow for the review and the info. Smith, I remember that now. Does anybody know Ricky's? It would be handy for the next chapter. Thanks also to SariShino for their review. Ok, so here's chapter four.

Chapter Four: On the Road

"Don't tell my heart, my achy breaky heart, I just don't think it will understand, and if you tell my heart, my achy breaky heart, he just might blow up and kill this man…"

If fingernails on a black board was set to music, Alan thought, it would be a lot easier on the ears than Billy Ray Cyrus. The driver Joe had gone through with this threat and now there was no hope. Endless plains of brown dirt stretched out on either side of the bus. Dust devils danced and twisted in its wake. Alan watched them intently, all the time aware of the other kid's gaze boring a hole in his neck. He'd been staring at Alan for almost two hours. It made the hair all down his spine stand up. He wanted to turn around and tell the boy to buzz off, but he knew crazy people were like dogs, it's not smart to look one in the eye.

Especially since the kid wasn't in a straightjacket any more. The cops figured if he could break out of it, it wasn't doing much good, so they'd settled on two sets of handcuffs. One secured his hands normally, and the other anchored him to the window frame by his seat in the back of the bus. He still had the leg cuffs on, which was a small comfort.

Alan wondered again who this kid could be. He'd heard one of the cops call him Ricky. The only Ricky Alan knew was Ricky Ricardo. This boy would definitely not be singing Babaloo. This Ricky preferred breaking out of straightjackets instead of playing the conga drum… He'd broken out of a straightjacket! Alan still couldn't believe it. Maybe the kid was a descendant of Houdini's…

Anyway he was a nut job. He'd broken out of a straightjacket! Right there in the middle of all those cops. He even bit one of them hard enough to break the skin before they tasered him down.

Alan shuddered.

"You cold?" A voice came from the back of the bus.

Carefully, Alan turned towards the crazy kid. He caught sight of Grumpy sitting tensed next to the driver, before he locked eyes with the nut. Ricky had his head tilted, and there was no emotion on his face.

Alan swallowed a wad of spit to moisten his throat. "I ain't cold."

"How come you shivered then?"

"A big drop of sweat just dripped down my back, it tickled is all." He wiped the back of his neck with his cuffed hands.

"Quiet back there!" Grumpy ordered.

Ricky rolled his eyes and smirked suddenly. "Whatever you say Warden," He turned to look out the window, still grinning.

Alan added sever mood swings to the list of Ricky's oddities, but he was happy the staring had stopped. He could think straight now. Lots of things weren't making sense. They were meant to be going to some place called Camp Green Lake, which meant it should be getting cooler. Instead it was getting real hot real fast. The bus didn't have air conditioning either. The driver seemed to think that rolling down his window made up for it. All the windows around Alan were stuck, and he felt like he was in a microwave. Parts of him were sweating that he never thought could, huge beads of sweat were rolling down his back, and the backs of his legs were melting into the fake leather seats. Alan wished he hadn't worn cut offs.

"Well here we are," Joe the driver called over his blaring stereo, "say hello to your new home boys."

Alan looked at the window. There was no lake in sight, just brown dirt. There were a lot of holes, a lot a lot of holes. There were so many, they looked like the black heads on Beth Gilligar from home room's nose. The bus dove up into what looked like an old western movie set. Ancient buildings with false fronts lined the road. There were wooden gang plank sidewalks, and Alan even caught sight of saloon doors on one of the buildings. That wasn't the worse part either. Orange jumpsuits were everywhere. And they had had kids in them.

They all grinned and jeered as the bus passed. "Whoa, new blood!" someone shouted.

Oh God. The bus stopped next to one of the buildings and Joe popped the door open. "Last stop, so get the heck off of my bus."

Grumpy got up, and unlocked Alan's hand cuffs. "Don't get any smart ideas, and don't move before I tell you to," he warned, continuing on to Ricky.

Exhaling, Alan threw his head against the seat. He'd be spending two years in this place, and he got the feeling that they were going to be the two longest years of his life.

Once Ricky was released, Grumpy lead them off the bus. Alan squinted against the sun and tried to ignore all the stares directed their way. Ricky sucked in a big lungful of the dusty air and grinned. "I think I'm going to like it here."

Grumpy barked with laughter. "We'll see kid," he muttered, "we'll see. Come on, in here."

He opened up a screen door and beckoned the boys inside.

"Guess this is it," Alan grunted under his breath as he walked into the room.

"Yap, say good bye to the wife and tater tots," Quoted the crazy boy while pulling the door shut behind them.


	5. Chapter Five: The Staff

Dear readers: I would just like to point out that as I now know, Alan's surname is Smith. However, I will continue to use Shepard so that it is consistent with the other chapters. Hopefully his last name wouldn't be brought up again. Also Since I don't have any of the holes books except small steps, I'm trying to recall what exactly Alan's lifeline object was. I think it was an octopus toy, and I don't remember the colors so I made it purple and green. Please excuse any errors due to unfortunately not owning the book. Thanks Seddie-Sparrow for your review again.

Chapter Five: The Staff

For a few moments, all Alan could see were red and green spots from being in the sun light. He blinked rapidly and then looked around when his vision cleared. It really wasn't much of a room. There was a desk against one wall, and some filing cabinets against the other. Lots of old western stuff was still there like the potbellied stove. By way of technology, the lamps and small fridge looked about forty years old. The smell of dust and cigarettes hung in the air.

"Well, well, look what the cat drug in, two brand new delinquents." It was a man behind the desk who had spoken. He was an ugly son, with a kind of smashed in face that looked like it had been drug through a mile of gravel. "Take a seat."

Alan flopped into one of the chairs that sat in front of the desk. Ricky perched on the other.

The man lit up a cigarette and took a long drag that exhausted half of it, before peering at the clip boards before him. "Says here we got a Richard Kasch, and an Alan Shepard, uh," He sucked the rest of the smoke away, ground the remaining stub into a crystal ashtray, and then looked up at Alan. "If I were you I'd find a new name real quick."

"My name," the man continued as he lit up again, "is Mister Sir, whenever you speak to me, you will call me by my name, is that clear?"

"That's not a very creative name," Ricky observed, "You'd think witness protection would have given you a better one."

Alan grinned.

Mister Sir did not take it so well. "Looks like we got ourselves a funny boy, we like funny boys here at Camp Green Lake. We like um because they're the one's we get to make examples of. Ever been made an example, Kasch?"

"A few times, Mister Sir," the boy replied. The reminder seemed to sober him up.

"What about you, Alan?"

Alan thought about it for a moment, "Nope."

Mister Sir flashed a smile that wasn't friendly, "there's a first time for everything."

"So," Mister Sir continued as he stood up and moved to the refrigerator. "I bet you boys were pleased to death when you found out you were coming here. Bet you thought 'camp that's bound to be fun' an' your mama was happy 'cause she could tell everybody her brat was just at camp instead of in the slammer. Well boys, this ain't no Girl Scout making-baskets- and-toasting-shmores-singing-hokey-songs-around-the-camp-fire camp. No siree. This is Camp Green Lake, and just like there ain't no Lake and it ain't green, this ain't no camp either, got it?"

"Yes, Mister Sir." Both boys droned.

"Good." He opened the fridge and pulled out two sodas.

Alan watched condensation form on the bottles, he thought about how good they would taste after that long bus ride. He swallowed the water filling his mouth. He was almost dead certain that he and Ricky wouldn't be getting them though. No, they would be the power play. To show who called the shots.

"Here," Mister Sir handed both sodas to Grumpy who had been standing silently in the corner. "Since there was two of 'um. Reckon you boys must be thirsty too." Mister Sir called, turning back towards them, "you'd do best to get used to that though, you're gonna be thirsty your whole stay with us."

"Come on, we best get you suited up." The ugly faced man led Alan and Ricky back outside and started up the main street. "You boys must be pretty impressed with our security systems, huh? The twenty foot high walls… I bet you never seen so much barbed wired in your whole lives, or such vicious attack dogs."

Ricky looked around but Alan knew there was none of that stuff. "Is it invisible?" Ricky asked.

Mister Sir rolled his eyes. "No funny boy, didn't I warn you about being a wise guy already? It ain't there. We don't need any of those things here. Know why? All the water in the whole vicinity as far as you can see is right here. Any boy stupid enough to run away is just a nice meal for the buzzards."

"Cool."

"I tell ya," Mister Sir sneered, "you'd do good to keep your mouths shut boys."

He walked into another building and Alan and Ricky followed. This one was set up like an army supply shop with boots lined up across a shelf and uniforms packed along another. Only these uniforms were orange instead of camo, and instead of guns there was a rack of shovels across the back wall.

A kid was in there, folding and sorting uniforms. "Hey Mister Sir," the youth called in greeting.

The ugly faced man only grunted. "Undress," He ordered.

Alan stripped down to his boxers and Ricky did the same. Mister Sir threw them each an orange jumpsuit. "One size fits all kids."

Alan pulled on the orange thing. He could already tell that it was second hand, the top button was hanging by a thread, and the backs of the sleeves were worn and had little balls of fuzz on them. A pair of boots got handed to him. Alan put them on, they weren't new either. Somebody else had already broken them in, and whoever they were sure had big toes.

Mister Sir went through a speech he'd obviously recited time and time again. It was all about work clothes and relaxing clothes. Then he sat two shovels on the sorting table and explained how they were to dig a hole every day that was five feet by five feet, and that they could measure it with the shovel.

Great, Alan thought, they've got a chain gang.

"You boys need to keep a look out for rattlers and the lizards."

And poisonous wildlife too.

"What lizards?" Ricky asked as he tied his bootlaces.

"Yellow spotted lizards. One bite and you die, a bite from a rattler doesn't always kill you, but you get bit by a yellow spotted lizard, and you're dead."

"So look out for the lizards with yellow spots?" Alan summarized.

Mister Sir gave a harsh bark of laughter, "yep. Lizards are the reason I carry my gun, I've seen you eyeing it Kasch, you want to keep distance when you kill one of them."

"What do they eat?" Ricky asked.

Shrugging, Mister Sir said, "I don't know I and I don't care to find out. Scorpions I reckon, or maybe rattlers, I'm sure they'd be partial to a little human flesh if they could get it though."

Alan shivered. A huge grin broke out on Ricky's face. He was back to being a psycho.

Mister Sir opened up their bags and sorted through what they'd brought. Alan stood by and watched the ugly man paw through his stuff. He picked up the tooth paste tube and squirted out about half of the container.

"Hey!"

"Just being careful boy. A little while ago somebody from A-tent snuck in some drugs. " Mister Sir shook the bag out and ran his hand along the inside. "This thing reeks like cheap booze," he muttered "You got a drinking problem, Alan?"

"Not anymore."

"Hum," the other picked up a purple and green stuffed octopus. "Don't suppose there's anything in this." He squeezed up and down the arms and head of the toy, before sticking it back in the bag. Alan was relived he hadn't cut it open. Not because he had anything hidden in it, but because it was Goochy.

Next Mister Sir went through Ricky's clear plastic back pack. He'd obviously gone to one of those big schools with the metal detectors. Mister Sir pulled out two candy bars that were just soggy chocolate because of the heat. "Yuck," he grumbled as he tossed them into the trash, and rubbed his hands on his pants.

"I wanted to eat those!" Ricky complained.

"Too hot for them things," Mister Sir muttered, as he wiped melted gunk on his pants leg "besides no food is allowed into Camp Green Lake. What else you got in here?" He found a cheese knife next. "That's a first," He put the knife into his pocket. Next came a bottle of aspirin and a length of rope. Both of which were confiscated, "You on depression medication or something?"

"No, why?"

"Just wondering," Lastly there was a TV guide, it was old. Mister Sir flipped through it a couple of times. "Couldn't find this week's?"

"Oh, that's my magazine. I've had it a long time," Ricky explained, "I can trust all the eyes."

"Alright," Mister Sir dropped the TV guide back into the bag. "Well, here you go boys," He handed them their bags back. "I can hear Pendanski coming, and if I were you Alan, I'd pick something else to call myself, like Bard or John or somethin'."

What was up with that? Alan shrugged to himself and shouldered his bag again.

"I'd go with Clyde if I were you ," Ricky told him, "or maybe Ponyboy."

"Ponyboy?"

Ricky nodded, "I saw a movie one time and the kid's name was Ponyboy, I always wanted to call someone that. It fits you too."

Alan resisted the urge to slug him, afraid of what the nut might do. At that same moment, a faculty member entered the room. He was at least a head and a half shorter that Alan even with his hat. He looked like the way Alan had pictured the consolers looking at a reformatory, a total idiot. His nose was slathered with sun screen and bright red where the cream didn't cover. His ears stuck out like only ears can. His smile was cheap looking. A short brown beard was spread over his chin and he dressed like Steve Urkel was his fashion adviser.

"Richard Kasch," He announced while glancing at a note pad in his hand, "I want you to know that you may have done some bad things, but that does not make you a bad kid."

"Really? Then what makes you a bad kid?" Ricky asked.

Pendanski didn't seem ready for this, "Um, well," Mister Sir chuckled and half turned away. "We'll cover that later." He allowed quickly, and then turned to Alan.

"You must be Alan Shepard,"

Alan nodded, "that's me," He noticed Mister Sir moving closer to them grinning.

Pendanski nodded too. "I have a nephew named Alan, he's about your age."

Oh God no! Why, why hadn't he said his name was anything different? Great, just great! He was going to be a teacher's pet right off the bat just because of some fool name. Alan felt like slapping himself in the head. "Yeah well, what's your name?" He asked.

"I am Dr. Pendanski, and I will be your counselor while you're here at Camp Green Lake."

"Is that so," Alan cracked his knuckles," I had a neighbor named Pendanski, I used to break his windows and slash his tires." He let a hard edge creep into his tone.

The counselor laughed. "Lucky for me I don't have a car,"

Mister Sir laughed too. "I can see you boys are gonna enjoy your stay." He pushed past them outside still laughing.

Alan felt his lip curl over his teeth.

"Bet you wish you'd said Ponyboy now," Ricky whispered.


End file.
